When the lever was pulled, I didn’t even look away. Anthony Morrow was the sort of scum the gallows were made for. I watched the man fall from the platform and was pleased to see arms and legs twitching wildly. A quick death was too good for a piece of shit like that.
Reverend George Pain rebuked me, saying, “His death isn’t going to bring back Lucelle. Only the Lord can bring healing. Today my son, you have all of my prayers.”
I responded, “Reverend, I know you mean well, but if you don’t mind I’m trying to enjoy the show.”
I watched as the elderly man walked away. A pinprick of pain pierced my heart, the reverend truly was a good man. I’d make amends on Sunday, after all he was quick to forgive.
The damage was already done, I couldn’t get the face of Lucelle out of my mind. Her perfectly round eyes shaded by short bangs that framed her round face, left me wanting. Not even the final spasms of the damned man was enough to satiate me. I was left empty, entirely drained. There was nothing left to live for, she was everything to me.
That bastard swaying by his elongated neck, took her from me. He didn’t even have the decency to put her out of her misery. The man left her with the blade embedded in her stomach, bleeding uncontrollably.
I can’t bear thinking of what he did to her, yet, there is nothing else that occupies my time. Tears fill my eyes as I remember the scene. Her all-to-still body was cold to the touch. The creamy whiteness of her complexion was stained crimson. How could this happen to a woman so pure?
How could a man so black in heart get off so easily? His life for hers. How is that a fair trade? The man could be hung forevermore and it wouldn’t be enough. If there is any justice in this world that man would be condemned to suffer his fate over again.
*
The floor of the platform dropped, and Anthony Morrow fell into his fate, once more.